Will You Be There to Catch Me?
by JensenAckles13
Summary: Direct sequel to 'If I Fall'. They've got a bond, Odin and Fury on their ass, the Avengers team out for revenge, mortality to fight over...what could go wrong? *I'VE GIVEN UP ON THIS, TAKE IT IF YOU WANT TO FINISH IT*
1. Whipped cream trend

Loki found he was inexplicably drawn to Anthony, unable to tear himself away for more than an hour at most. He would get anxious, shaky; sometimes he found he was unable to stay still. It was only worse when the man had meetings; those could last anywhere from an hour to five. Those were the times Loki was most agitated. And oh, Anthony would know. He always did, just as Loki always knew what Tony was feeling.  
Their connection was strong now, their bond complete. They could always tell what the other was feeling whenever and wherever they were. It was a heavy burden, a wonderful gift.  
As of now, frustration and exhaustion was rushing through the part of Loki's mind that Anthony had fused himself into; Anthony had been away for nearly nine and a half hours, arguing with his fellow Avengers, arguing _against _them, for Loki's sake. Everyone, save Thor- who had taken his rightful place back in Asgard- had convinced themselves Loki needed to be contained in a cell of some sort, punished for his crimes. Anthony on the other hand, argued that the god had been under the influence of the Tesseract, and that Agent Barton, or "Legolas", as Anthony so affectionately called him, should understand the power in which the device possessed, and that Dr. Banner should understand just as much, seeing as how he'd studied it for days. No, this was not all they had used to prove their points, some things more rash than others, but it seemed that Anthony's Avengers only wanted to punish Loki for his war crimes against midguard.  
As for Loki….he wasn't entirely sure what he should think. He knew he deserved some form of punishment for his crimes, but he also knew that what he had done hadn't _entirely _been his fault. So that left the question of what _could _be done? He knew Anthony would never let him be locked in a cell, He felt a ghost of tingling pain slide through his mind, and brush over his fingers like a soft gust of wind; he assumed by this, Anthony had just slammed his fist into the metal table beneath him- he'd done it multiple times in the last hour and a half. It was then that alarm rose in his mind, almost choking him. He froze in midst of his small ministrations, trying to find out what had caused his mortal to surprise, but he could find no such answer. He could breathe again, however, when relief spilled over, taking place of the alarm. Soon after, he felt Anthony getting close. The mortal was flying back now, flying back to their home, flying back to Loki. There were some advantages to someone who could fly- it was much faster than driving, which Loki was immensely grateful for. There was a soft thud on the balcony, and Loki looked through the glass door in time to see Anthony walking forward, his suit being taken off by metal parts that came out of the ground as he walked. This was something Loki always enjoyed watching, seeing his Man of Iron no longer the Man of Iron, but rather _his mortal_, someone he didn't have to share.  
Loki smiled as Anthony came through the glass door, looking frustrated and ultimately tired. Loki moved forward and embraced the mortal, Anthony's tense muscles relaxing the same as Loki's did when they touched.

"Good evening, my love," Loki whispered ever so softly into the mortals ear. "I hope it went well?"

"You'd know if it didn't, Lo," Anthony said just as quietly, pressing a kiss to the underside of Loki's jaw. Loki smiled down at the beautiful yet weary man before him.

"Would you like dinner? I made your favorite," Loki said, tilting his head towards the small, round table that sat alone in the center of the kitchen. The warm smile gracing Anthony's lips and the delighted love that rushed warmly into Loki's mind were more than enough to make his own heart lurch. He loved doing these small things for Anthony. It always was the small things that made the mortal happy. It was a cursed blessing that Loki was more than grateful for.

"Hell yeah. Lemme just go change. Damn thing itches," Anthony said with that wild grin Loki had come to love. The man tugged at his collar, loosening his tie before disappearing down the hallway. Loki moved to the table, pouring them each a glass of red wine and pulling his lover's chair out before settling in his own. He waited patiently for Anthony, smiling when the man re-entered in sweats and a tee shirt, the arc reactors green-white glow shining softly beneath the white shirt. It was a sight he'd come to love to see; it made his lover look majestic and strong, beautiful, and, most importantly, _his_. Anthony's socked feet padded softly on wooden floors as he moved forward, sitting down next to Loki. The man dug into his pancakes, whipped cream somehow finding its way to the tip of his nose. Loki laughed lightly.

"That looks wonderful, my dear." He leaned forward, kissing away the whipped cream on the other's nose. Anthony smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Hey, I try," Anthony replied nonchalantly. "It's a new trend I'm trying to start- whipped cream _everything_. I'm talking dress shirts, ties, pants….hell, I'm talking things from late night sex to cologne."

"I often worry of you, darling," Loki said, tilting his head to the side in the way Anthony called the 'puppy dog eyes'. He knew he looked adorably innocent, so he couldn't resist adding on, "Though, I do admit to being curious as to how you would use whipped cream in the bedroom."  
Needless to say, later that night, Loki's nether regions were covered in Anthony's precious whipped cream, the other's mouth soon to follow.  
Loki had a feeling Anthony's trend might very well be a _fantastic _idea.


	2. All good things end, just not yet

It was no more than three weeks after the whipped cream incident that things started to go badly. It started with constant calls from S.H.I.E.L.D. Anthony was always gone, running off with his Avengers to save the day from whatever bad guy had tried to take over that day. Anthony was in genuinely frustrated most all the time, and Loki could understand that. Whenever the mortal began to get a decent night's sleep- which, admittedly, was not often- it seemed Director Fury would call with some mission for him to go on.  
And then Thor began coming, quite frequently, to inform him that the AllFather was none too pleased that Loki had chosen a mortal to court, and wished to speak with him, to which Loki would always give the same noncommittal shrug and say "no" before turning his back.  
And worse, Anthony was hiding something from him. Oh, he was doing remarkably well, but Loki was often called the God of Lies, and there was a reason for that.  
The mortal would disappear into his lab for hours at a time, and often Loki would eat alone, sometimes even sleep alone, hugging Anthony's pillow to make up for the loss of warmth that should have been at his side. The mortal wouldn't even allow Loki into his lab anymore, and it stung more than he would like to admit.  
So, one night, Loki confronted the other about it.

"Why have you been spending so much time in your lab, Anthony?" he asked. He knew it sounded out of the blue, but had, in fact, been on his mind for quite some time.

"Because I have work to do, ya know, in my lab," Anthony replied with a raised brow.

"Are you getting tired of me? Am I no longer good enough?" Loki asked, tilting his head to the side, trying to understand someone he thought he could understand perfectly. Alarm rushed through his mind, Anthony's, not his own.

"What? No! I've just got a project I'm working on," Anthony insisted.

"Do you not trust me?" Exasperation came next.

"Lo, of course I trust you. This is just something you can't see," the mortal said. Loki sensed no lie, but was still upset. Maybe he hadn't known Anthony as well as he'd thought?

"Will I ever?" Loki's brow furrowed. He hoped, he really did, that Anthony would allow him to see what had been stealing his time for so long. Anthony thought for a moment before nodding.

"Give me the night. Just tonight, and you'll be able to see it tomorrow," the man said, coming forward and taking Loki's hands. Loki felt some of his tension evaporate. "Can you trust me?"

"Should I?" Loki asked, narrowing his eyes. Anthony sighed, bringing Loki's hand to his lips and kissing each of his knuckles in turn.

"I think you know the answer to that," the other said before disappearing into his lab. And indeed, Loki did. Of course he could trust Anthony.  
Loki had trouble sleeping that night. He was too anxious and too worried. So when Anthony called him down, he'd nearly fallen down the stairs in his haste to get into the lab.  
Anthony was pacing in front of his work table, something metal held within his hands. Hope and anxiousness were flowing through their bond, each battling for dominance the other wasn't willing to give. It made Loki's head hurt as much as he knew Anthony's did.

"Voila," Anthony said, holding out the golden metal contraption. It was the exact same color of the wrist guards Loki wore, but the inside was soft leather rather than metal. But that wasn't all. There was a replicated version of Anthony's arc reactor glowing softly in the center, a faint mix of green and silver. It was beautifully crafted with steady hands and time.

"What is this?" Loki asked as he ran his fingers across the contraption.

"Well, I know that if you use too much magic you get tired, so you can take energy from it. Do you like it?" Anthony answered in a rush of too much coffee and too little sleep. Loki examined the beauty for a moment longer, a smile bringing up the corners of his lips. Of course he liked it. It was beautiful, and would help out quite a bit. He slid it onto his wrist- it fit perfectly, not too tight but tight enough it wouldn't come off.

"I love it, darling. Thank you," Loki replied, wrapping his arms around Anthony's waist and brushing his lips across the mortals. Relief slid through Loki's mind.

"Good," the man replied, and Loki smiled softly before gently ushering Anthony towards the stairs.

"You need sleep, my love," Loki whispered, leading Anthony upstairs and into their bedroom. He crawled into their soft bed and pulled the silk sheets over them. Anthony's head tucked into the crook of his neck.

"Night, Lo," the mortal mumbled, already falling into a peaceful sleep.

"Goodnight, dear."

JARVIS closed the blackout curtains, effectively blocking out the bright morning sunlight so the other could sleep.  
Anthony slept.  
Loki gazed at his wrist, the soft light mingling with the light of Anthony's arc reactor, pulling him into a sleep filled with dreams of water and sunlight and Anthony.  
It was the best sleep he'd had in quite a long time.

_A/N: Second chapter, yay! I hope you enjoy, and please review! :) Thanks for reading_


	3. Stuff it up his ass

He wouldn't have woken, had it not been for the emptiness in the bed beside him and the anxiety flowing through his lovers mind.  
He was up faster than he thought physically possible, searching for Anthony with bated breath. It was dark; the glow from the reactor round his wrist was his only source of light as he searched the tower. He could hear a soft rustle and then a cursed growl of pain. Loki froze, following the muffled sounds of harsh breathing. He recognized it immediately as Anthony's- he'd heard it often enough as he nursed his lover through sleep stealing nightmares. He heard hushed voices as he crept upon one of Anthony's spare bedrooms.

"You just bit me, you fucker…." That was a male voice, followed by a thud and an intake of breath. He felt a dull ache spread throughout his chest, and he narrowed his eyes at the door, sending it flying off its hinges. Anthony's arms were tied behind him and his eyes were blazing with anger. If looks could kill, Loki knew that the S.H.I.E.L.D agent standing above Anthony with his boot drawn back would have been dead already. Still, Loki couldn't help the rage that poured through him as he saw the blood running down Anthony's face, or the bowed back that suggested he was protecting his ribs. He sent the man flying across the room with a flick of his wrist, relishing in the crack as he hit the wall and slumped. Anthony now had duct tape over his lips. Loki reached down and gently tugged it free, kneeling in front of the mortal.

"Fury, the bastard," Anthony said as Loki untied the man's bound wrists. "He sent some of his agents down here. There's still two in here somewhere."  
Loki nodded distractedly, helping Anthony stand. Before he had a chance to heal the man, Anthony narrowed his eyes and gave Loki a shove that sent him careening rather solidly into the wall, while a streak of blue flew past and straight through the window, sending glass flying in every direction. Loki wasn't entirely sure what happened next; the only thing he had managed to process was a blur of gold and red, a metallic clang and a bright white light. The smell of smoke wafted through the air, and there stood Anthony, in all his glory, with a gold and red metal encased arm, the agent lying a good fifteen feet away, either unconscious or dead, Loki couldn't know.  
He couldn't help but think how wonderful Anthony looked, how majestic. It was strange how a mortal could emanate so much power and not seem to recognize it. It was stranger still how this particular mortal could draw Loki in like a moth to a flame.  
It was then that he realized he was staring, and that Anthony was now moving forward, pressing two fingers to the man's neck. The relief was immediate, flowing strongly through their bond. Anthony was afraid he'd killed the man. Anthony began to pick the man up by the arm. Loki stood, planning on helping, but froze when he heard the all too familiar click of a gun.

"Don't move, Stark," the female voice rang out, loud and clear. And, like the genius he was, Anthony continued moving, though this time it was in favor of dropping the man and turning to face Agent Romanov. Her posture was calm and dangerous; her guns held steadily before her, one trained on Anthony, the other on Loki. The look she wore on her face was one of careful blankness, but in her eyes, Loki could see that she was battling within herself, going between disobeying her orders or following them out.

"C'mon, Nat, it's us here. We're not gonna do anything," Anthony said in that eerily calm, authority filled voice he often used when speaking to Director Fury.

"Fury ordered me to bring you both in," Romanov said, but it seemed more as if she were trying to convince herself she was going to carry out this deed.

"Well, no offense, but Fury can stuff it up his ass," Anthony replied, the hand encased in metal half raised, as if he were prepared to use it but wasn't planning to.

"He doesn't trust Loki," Romanov continued, eyes never straying from her targets.

"I do," Anthony replied.

"He threw a guard across the room without breaking a sweat." It seemed as if she were giving herself more reasons with which to follow her orders.

"Yeah, well, the agent was an ass," Anthony said, his eyes staying on the woman. Loki stayed smartly silent. He didn't want his voice to be the trigger Agent Romanov would need to make the decision for her.

"He killed Coulson." Her voice held more finality.

"But he's not actually dead, is he?" Anthony asked, taking a step forward. Her brow furrowed; Loki was in his own shock. He hadn't known either. Why hadn't Anthony told him?

"What do you mean? Of course he is."

Anthony, instead of answering, pulling out his phone and dialed a number into the screen, holding the phone up.

"JARVIS, play the call." And with that, they could all hear the ringing of the dial tone.

"Hello, Mr. Stark." The voice belonged to none other than Agent Coulson. Agent Romanov's guns fell to her sides and she re-holstered them.

"Thanks for the memo," Romanov said.

"Hello, Natasha," Coulson answered.

"Gotta go," Anthony said.

"Of course, Mr. Stark. We will talk later." And with that the line went dead. Anthony hung up.

"Well," Romanov said, looking between Loki and Anthony. Loki felt his heart leap and flutter, felt Anthony's own anxiety seeping into his mind. Her next words calmed both Loki and Anthony's mind, and sent a rush of amusement throughout the mortal's mind.

"I suppose I should tell Fury to stuff it up his ass."


	4. The big, the bad, the ugly

As it was, everyone was expecting it when Director Fury came. He was looking rather red in the face and not at all happy. The anger only grew when he saw Natasha sitting on the couch next to Loki and Anthony standing with a metal hand pointed at him.

"What the hell is going on?" the Director said, his voice dangerously low.

"Seems like Nat's switched sides," Anthony said, flashing a smile.

"Don't get smart with me, Stark." The Director turned his attention to Loki. "What have you done to her?" he asked. Loki scoffed to himself.

"What, exactly, do you presume I _have _done to her?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. Anthony snorted, turning to look at him with devious eyes.

Something was off with the Director. He was…different, and not entirely in a settling way.

"You have magic; take a guess," the Director said lowly, one eye narrowed in disdain. Anthony was standing behind the man, making faces and laughing to himself in an adorable way in which he couldn't help laughing along as well.

"Am I _funny _to you?" Director Fury set a harsh glare on Loki. Anthony simply continued his shenanigans; standing on his toes with his chest puffed him, his face mock serious, one arm on his hip, the other covering his eye in a rather crude imitation of the Director. Loki couldn't help himself; he doubled over laughing, tears streaming from his eyes. The Director abruptly turned, his one-eyed glare centered on Anthony. Anthony straightened, schooling his features in an attempt to look innocent. He failed miserably.

"Stark, I will have you thrown out," the Director said, eyes narrowed. Anthony rolled his eyes, dropping the façade.

"It's _my _tower, Fury. Now, I love that you think you'd actually be _able _to do that, but sadly, you are mistaken. First off, Reindeer Games most definitely wouldn't like that, and second, neither would JARVIS," Anthony pointed out, standing there calmly staring in the face of certain death. Loki had to admit; he was rather impressed. That grew when he saw Director Fury's eye twitch in barely concealed anger. And then his guns were out, and, as Anthony would say, all humour was shot to hell. They were pointed at Loki, and in turn, Agent Romanov's were also out, only, they weren't pointed. Loki laughed.

"You cannot kill me, mortal. I am a god. You are nothing but an-" He was cut off by an angry Director.

"An ant under your boot, I know. I've heard it all before. Which is why I'm not pointing them at you." Before any of them could actually process what was happening, the Director was behind Anthony, a gun pressed to his temple, the other arm wrapped just a bit too tightly around Anthony's neck for comfort. Loki felt Anthony's spike of fear. However, he knew it did not originate from the gun pressed to his temple, but rather the lack of oxygen in his lungs. Loki knew this was one particular thing Anthony hated, more than anything, due to a repeated lack of oxygen when in Afghanistan.

"JARVIS," Loki said, as calmly as he could manage. But there was no answering "Yes, Mr. Laufeyson?" like he was expecting. No, there was silence. And this seemed to scare Anthony even more. Loki would never admit it, but it scared him a little too. The arm tightened around Anthony's throat, and Loki felt rage pour through him, boiling in the pit of his stomach. No one touched Anthony. _No one_.  
Loki went to take a step forward, but found himself frozen in place. Panic spiked in his chest, making Anthony all the more restless. It hit him then; this was not at all Director Fury. Oh no, this was much, much worse. This was…

"Angrboda." He spoke it lowly, though fear was threatening to make him throw up. This was not supposed to be happening. _This couldn't be happening_.

"Hello, my love," Angrboda shifted and shimmered, her skin turning blue, changing from human to Frost Giant in seconds, shrunk down, of course, to fit inside. Anthony's breath stuttered then, and what little air he'd been getting was stolen by pain. She was burning- no, _freezing_ Anthony's throat. Not on the inside, oh no, this was frost bite, taking over from the outside and spreading.

"Step away from him, Angrboda," he said, his voice quivering with undisguised rage and worry.

"Oh, but he's such a lovely little thing." A wicked smile spread across her lips at the choked protest Anthony gave. Loki willed him to stay silent. Angrboda sent Loki flying with a flick of her wrist. He crashed into the granite of the miniature bar with a groan of pain.

"Hey, don't touch my s-stuff!" Anthony protested feebly, his eyes rolling as he struggled to stay conscious. Agent Romanov had her weapons pointed at Angrboda, and at the same time, Anthony.

"Let him go and no one gets hurt," Natasha said in that reasonable, authoritative voice she so perfectly possessed. Angrboda laughed, an ugly bitter sound.

"Oh, my dear; it is not me who will be hurting. Only this little mortal." She looked at Loki. "You," she hissed, calm demeanor slipping for a moment. "You will be paying for what you have done." And then she was gone, taking Anthony with her.

"_Anthony!_" Loki screamed, but it was far, far too late.

They were gone.


	5. I will find you

Loki felt panic threaten to take him, but he knew he couldn't allow it. Anthony was out there, somewhere, with _her_. Natasha took a step towards him, and he let out a snarl of rage, backing away like a caged animal.

"Why didn't you shoot?" he snarled, hunching his shoulders.

"Stark was in the way. You didn't want me to shoot _him, _did you?" Natasha asked, raising a brow.

"It would be preferable for what she will do!"

And then panic came. What would happen? Would she kill Anthony? Surely, that was what she intended to do. But oh, she would make him feel it first. Loki felt his breaths come faster, his eyes blown wide with fear. He paced back and forth, desperately searching out Angrboda's magic.  
Oh god, what if she was already torturing him? What if she was using the snake, as she had helped do to Loki? Fuck, Anthony couldn't survive that. _FUCK! _Anthony's language was rubbing off on him. No matter. This was not the time. Oh god, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't-  
He was cut off as Natasha reared back, her palm finding his cheek and slapping it with a sharp cracking sound. His head whipped to the side, and he brought his hand up to the red handprint beginning to form there. Oh, that little…she was….  
He found he could breathe again. Natasha's hands were on his shoulders, her eyes staring hard into his own, leaving no room for question.

"Relax. Relax, Loki. Panicking isn't going to find him." Her voice was calm, authoritative. It helped.

"Okay. If I can find her magic, then I will find Anthony." He closed his eyes, beginning to search for any thread of Angrboda's magic that could lead him to them. He opened his eyes, however, when he felt eyes boring into him. He couldn't work like that.

"Wouldn't it be easier to find Stark instead?" she asked, as if her question was simple. As if the answer was simple. As if…wait. Bonded. He and Anthony had bonded. That would make finding Anthony much easier than finding Angrboda.

_Oh. _"Oh." He closed his eyes and began searching for Anthony instead. He followed the scent that was absolutely and only Anthony's. Metal, wind and aftershave. He found his easily. But finding him made this no easier. No, he found him in _Jotunhiem_. Oh, gods, couldn't he- either of them- catch a break? The panic was back, but so was Natasha, pulling him out once more.  
"I need Thor." It was final. There was no room for argument there, and the spy didn't try to argue.  
Natasha called into S.H.I.E.L.D, and a few rumbles of thunder and lightning bolts later, there was the blond oaf, in all his glory, walking loudly in from the balcony.

"Brother, it is good to see you. As to you, Widow," Thor said in his booming voice.

"I need you to help me get to Jotunhiem," Loki said, stepping towards Thor. Thor's brow furrowed as Loki rushed into an explanation of what had happened. Thor was quiet for a long, breath stealing moment.

"If the Man of Iron needs my help," Thor said at last. "It would be my duty to lend my services."  
Loki let out a gasped breath, taking another in through his nose, before turning to face Natasha.

"I thank you for your inquires, Agent Romanov." He looked to Thor. "We must go now. I do not know what his condition is, though I do sense pain." And that made the panic come back all over again. His Anthony could not be in pain. Loki scowled at the ground as if it had personally offended him. He was going to rip Angrboda's head from her shoulders and feed her to the wolves. He would make her wish she had never laid a hand on Anthony.

"Are you ready, brother?" Thor asked, breaking his thoughts.

"I am." Loki nodded grimly. Thor squeezed his shoulder with one large hand before tilting his head to the sky.

"Hiemdal! Take us to Jotunhiem!" Thor bellowed. A moment later, the bifrost came down and whisked them away to Jotunhiem in a pool of golden light.  
They arrived just in time to hear a piercing scream rip through the night.


End file.
